


Baby, Come Back to Me

by littleblackbow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2107143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackbow/pseuds/littleblackbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry doesn’t realize what he’s missing until he’s faced with the possibility of it being gone forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, Come Back to Me

Title: Baby, Come Back to Me  
Author/Artist: Chibitoaster  
Cliches: Amnesia and Soulmates  
Word Count: Around 9k  
Art Medium: Ink and watercolor  
Rating: R  
Warnings: None  
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, I’m not making any money off of them, and this is simply a pastiche.  
Notes: Fic and Art created specifically for hd_cliche fest. It’s been a ton of fun playing around with these cliches. I only wish I could have snuck in about 12 more!  
Summary: Harry doesn’t realize what he’s missing until he’s faced with the possibility of it being gone forever.

Some people say that it’s funny, the things we don’t notice until they’re gone. Harry always thought that was the saddest phrase. That people who don’t appreciate what they have are missing out on some of the best things in life. He thought it was important to notice everything and everyone that was important to you, and never to take anything for granted.

He swore he would never be like those people who only realized loss.

Until he became one, himself. 

The details of the situation really aren’t that complicated. Harry was working as a curse-breaker at Gringotts. There were mountains of cursed artifacts lost in the vaults, and he and Bill worked long hours sorting them out. Although some days he worked over 12 hours, Harry loved his job. He was good at it, for one, but also he loved learning about new and ancient artifacts.

“I think I could have been an archaeologist,” he told Bill one day.

“Why so?”

“Just because all of these ancient things - they’re brilliant!” Harry took a bite of his sandwich. “And it isn’t just that, sometimes I feel like they’re watching over me.”

Bill nodded. “Well, they do all have their own personalities, and I’m sure some of them can give off that feeling.”

“No, it’s more than that, it actually feels like I’m being watched. Like...” The more Harry thought about it, the more curious he became. Was there really something like that in these vaults? “Nevermind. I think it’s just my excitement playing tricks on me.”

Bill shrugged. “Maybe, but then again, maybe you are being watched over. I remember when Fleur first put a tracking charm on me - just after Victoire was born - to make sure I was alright. I felt as if someone was watching over me. Almost like those Guardian Angles that Muggles like so much.”

“That’s Angel.”

“Right. That thing. It was reassuring.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’d know if someone was tracking me. That’s one thing I’m very good at detecting.”

\--~oOo~--

A few weeks later, when Harry walked up the steps of Gringotts, he felt something hit him squarely in the chest. There was nothing there, of course, but still, the feeling jarred his entire body. As soon as he got inside, he sat down and tried to gather his nerves. Something was really wrong.

“Bill,” he called out. One of the goblins scowled at him for making such a racket. “BILL!” he yelled louder.

His partner had been discussing one of the vaults with the goblin in charge of the Lestrange estate when Harry called. “Hold on a tick, I’ll be back.”

“Have I been cursed?” Harry asked as Bill approached. He Summoned a chair and sat down, bracing his elbows on his knees.

“You think you’ve been cursed? What kind of curse?” He brought out his wand and began scanning Harry for any dark magic. “Nothing.”

“No, there has to be something, I feel as if something has been ripped out of me. But it isn’t like actual pain, it’s more like emotional agony, but without the emotion.”

Bill scanned again. “Nothing. Are you sure you didn’t just walk through a cloud of bad magic? The haze is pretty bad today, and even some of the strongest wiz--“

“No, something was... that thing, remember? I was talking about before? It’s gone.” Harry unbuttoned his collar and loosened his tie.

“The thing that you were talking about before? That narrows it down a lot.” Bill rolled his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

It was hard to put into words. If he brought up the tracking charm again, he’d sound like an idiot. Instead, Harry took a deep breath and tried to relax. The initial shock was gone, and the pain was fading, but it still felt like there was something stuck in his throat. “No, it’s okay. I think it’s going away.”

“Well, if it happens again and you’re not feeling well, you can go home. Today we’re just finishing up some paperwork which can easily be pawned off onto the goblins.” Bill scratched the back of his neck. “Actually, I’m pretty sure they’d rather do it themselves, anyway.”

“I’ll be fine if I just sit here for a couple minutes,” Harry said. He Summoned a glass of water and sipped on it while trying to focus on anything but the extreme discomfort in his chest.

Harry had been on the receiving end of so many curses over his lifetime, he had thought he’d experienced every kind. But this one was different than anything he’d felt before. He thought about what it felt like, and the best he could come up with was a combination of remorse, disappointment, and loss all wrapped up together. As he sat there, he could hear a couple of Goblins muttering to each other.

“Sitting on the job?”

“Not working again? I hope he realizes he won’t be getting paid.”

“Why should Gringotts pay for lazy Wizards?”

“Why come in at all if he’s not going to work?”

Harry rubbed his temples. This was going to be a long day.

\--~oOo~--

Now, it’s no secret that the Goblins didn’t particularly like wizards. In fact, they didn’t really like anyone except other Goblins, and even then, the word “like” might be a bit strong for that emotion they shared. However, the day after Harry’s affliction began, there was an unusual amount of complaining and bickering amongst them. On his way in, Harry would catch phrases like “still hasn’t shown up,” “good riddance to them all,” and “what do you expect from one of them.”

Some poor sod was on their list today. Harry hoped it wasn’t anyone he knew.

“You’re here early,” Bill called out to him from his desk. “Come, have some tea before work.” He levitated a cup to Harry and motioned to the milk and sugar. “I don’t know how you take it.”

Harry sat across from him and relaxed in the chair. “This is fine, actually. There’s a lot of buzz going around today, isn’t there?”

Bill nodded. “Someone hasn’t shown up for work for two days. Apparently, he’s also a big client, so they don’t want to fire him outright, but if he doesn’t show up by the end of the week, they’ll have to send him a howler.”

This seemed a little strange to Harry. Someone hadn’t shown up for two days, and they were just going to wait around for two more before sending a howler? That was it? “Does anyone know what happened to him?”

“Bleeding heart, eh? Yeah, I know, it sounds terrible. No, nobody knows, and so far I haven’t even figured out who it is.” Bill downed his tea and tucked the cups, teapot, and tea things into the bottom drawer of his desk. “They don’t give any details, you know? And if it isn’t our business, they’re not going to share.”

Harry nodded and looked over at the rows of desks on the wizarding side of the bank. Somewhere in that pool, there was one person missing. He just hoped it wasn’t anything serious.

\--~oOo~--

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S MALFOY?” Harry slammed his ale down on the table at the Leaky Cauldron. He and Bill had made a habit of discussing the days work outside of work on the particularly stressful days seeing as how they wouldn’t get any help from their employers.

Bill was obviously nervous and tried to calm Harry down. “Shush, will you? We’re not even supposed to know about it, let alone broadcast to the rest of the world. I only found out because his was the only desk with papers piling up on it. And you know how he has that posh self-inking quill with a gold nib that he uses? Well, that was on his desk, too, and it hasn’t been used in at least two days. Ink was crusted all the way up to the feathers.”

For Bill, it appeared that this news was just idle gossip, but for some reason, Harry felt as if he had just been hit squarely in the chest with some powerful hex. Sure, he and Malfoy were at odds with each other, but they also had...

Harry couldn’t put it into words. He shook his head and shoved his ale aside. “Sorry, Bill, I’ve got to go.”

“Where?” Bill tossed a few knuts on the table and followed Harry as he stormed out the door. “Look, I’m sorry for bringing it up. I know you hate the guy, but I thought you--“

“That’s not it. Not it at all.” Harry paused for a moment. “He hasn’t shown up for three days now. What does that tell you?”

It was still too soon after the trials. There were so many people out there who hated the Malfoys, and even with Draco taking a mundane job, working for an honest living, there were so many war widows, widowers, orphans out there who hated him.

“Shit,” Brill cursed under his breath. “I’m coming with you.”

“Yeah. You know where he’s staying?”

“Not a clue, but he’s got to be somewhere close, and I’ve got an owl who can lead us there.” Bill raised his arm and whistled into the air. His owl, Carbuncle, flew down from the top of one of the buildings and landed on his wrist. “Deliver this slowly, in circles, to the home of Draco Malfoy,” he ordered. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny scroll, gave it to Carbuncle, and then let him go.

The owl headed down Diagon Alley and out into Muggle London.

“What was in the message?” Harry asked as they ran after the bird.

“Nothing. Spare scrolls just in case. Something mum used to do to us when we were out too late. She’d show up on a broomstick right behind the owl, and we knew were were in for it when we got home.”

The owl led them all the way to a block of flats in a rather unfavorable neighborhood. This wasn’t like the brownstones across from Charing Cross Station, this was more like a Muggle wasteland of heaps of rubbish, laundry hanging from railings outside tiny flats. Each building must have had five hundred flats in it, and there were a dozen buildings in the complex.

“People live like this?” Bill asked.

“I lived in a cupboard under the stairs.” Harry shrugged. “We do what we have to do sometimes.”

The owl perched itself outside the door of apartment 314. For a moment, Harry thought that maybe this was all a mistake. That Malfoy couldn’t possibly be living in a place like this, and that there was no way in heaven or on earth that he would own that blue blanket with Paddington Bear all over it.

“Harry, I think...” Bill picked up the edge of the blanket and looked at the tag. “D. M.” was written on it in black ink.

Harry tried to ignore it and knocked on the door.

He waited a few moments, then knocked again.

Bill held out his wand. “Do you want me to scan?”

“No, not yet, just stay there, and I’ll...”

The door opened just a sliver. Harry could see that the security chain was done up. and there wasn’t much light inside. Whoever it was that opened the door was standing behind it - out of sight, and out of the light.

“Draco? Is that you?” Harry asked.

A very scared-looking, disheveled Malfoy stepped into the light. “You- you know who I am?” He closed the door and they could hear the chain being removed. He opened the door again and grabbed Harry’s arm. “You know who I am?”

“Harry, he’s...” Bill started.

“Yeah. I think so.” Harry felt that strong pain in his chest again. This time, he was sure it wasn’t his imagination. He knew that there was no hex, and he wasn’t on the brunt end of any magic. Bill caught him as he fell back, but then found himself with empty arms as Harry was pulled away from him and into Draco’s flat.

“He knows me!” Draco said, proudly.

Bill followed them in. “Yeah, he knows you alright.” He found himself in a tiny one-room apartment with only a bathroom, kitchen area, bed, and dresser. In the corner, there was a rack for drying laundry with only a few socks and a white shirt draped over it. The kitchen sink was full of dirty cups - no plates or saucers, and other than the packet of crisps on the dresser and a sleeve of saltine crackers, it looked as if there was nothing to eat in the house at all. “Harry, this is...”

Harry was sitting next to Draco on the bed, one arm around his shoulder. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, but I think... would you come with me someplace?”

“I don’t know. Can’t... I have language, and I know this is my place, there’s some tea in the cupboard, I know how to make it, but what else? Something else... I’m supposed to be doing something. Shower, yes. Got that. But you know who I am. Nobody else here does. And I don’t know any of them.”

“Right, but do you know me?”

“Not a bloody clue. I couldn’t tell you from... God you’re not my brother are you? Do I have a brother?”

“Bill, come here. Quick scan for curses, okay?” Harry got up and managed to find Draco’s jacket and shoes. He tossed the shoes over by the bed just as Bill brought out his wand.

“Hullo. I’m just going to do something real quick, like. Oh, uh, my name’s Bill. That over there’s Harry. He’s a good bloke.”

“Right. Bill, and that’s...”

There was a faint green light that glowed around Draco as Bill proceeded with the scan. Bill let out a long breath. “Harry, this isn’t good. We should move him now.”

“What? What is it?” Harry tossed the jacket onto the bed.

“That’s magic. I know that much.” Draco put on the jacket and toed into his shoes.

“Someplace with a lot of old magic. We could take him to St. Mungo’s, but he’d probably be lynched while he’s there. We could take him to Hogwarts.” Bill stuffed his hands in his pockets. “It feels like a curse, but it isn’t really a curse, if that makes any sense. And although I don’t know what it is specifically, I know that it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

“You’ve seen it before?”

“Something like it.”

“And it isn’t good?”

“I’m still here, you know? And even though I don’t know who you are, I know rude when I hear it. What’s going on?” Draco stood and crossed his arms.

“How about Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Is that old enough?”

\--~oOo~--

Harry hadn’t been back in the old house for almost ten years. Not since that night.

“I’m going to Floo-call Gin. She’s probably in her office by now.” Bill ran into the parlour and stoked up a good fire.

“Come on, then. Make yourself at home.”

At first, Draco seemed confident. He stepped right inside and , but once he stepped into the old house, he stumbled back. “This place,” he whispered. He stood for a few moments, staring at the hardwood floors, the bannister on the stairs, the portraits on the wall. “I feel as if I’ve been here before... but I know I haven’t.”

“Actually, you have.” Harry took his arm and led him into the parlour. “You’ve been here before, but it’s been a very long time.”

Bill pulled his head out of the flames and let out a long breath. He sat back on the hearthstones and looked from one man to the other. “Well, that was a little awkward.”

“She didn’t want to help?” Harry asked. “If she gave you trouble, I could ask her and--“

Bill waved his hand. “No, that’s not it. She’s more than willing to help, but their memory expert there is Mr. Ollivander’s nephew. He’s not so eager to jump in to the rescue.”

For a moment, they all just sat there in silence. Finally, Draco took a deep breath and let it out. “Look, I don’t know if I’m out of place here, but I was wondering if I could have something to eat? I’m not feeling very well, and... oh, but if it’s too much, don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, no, not at all.” Harry snapped back to reality at that. “I’ll go make us some sandwiches. Bill, if you could, I don’t know, scan again, and see what’s going on?”

In the kitchen, Harry grabbed the edge of the sink and took a few, long breaths. Something about this whole situation wasn’t right. Why was he so upset? It wasn’t his memory that was affected. And why did he run after him in the first place? Why be so concerned with this arrogant git who had been a thorn in his side since he was 11 years old?

That’s when he realized what was wrong. There were only a handful of people from his past with whom he could share his memories. And of those people, there were fewer who understood what it was like to grow up without a normal family. In fact, if it weren’t for that one encounter with Draco, he might never have known that there was someone else who had known this kind of suffering.

And now that was gone. Those memories that brought the two of them together were gone.

Harry pounded the counter with his fist in frustration, then went about making sandwiches and tea. In his mind, he thought he shouldn’t have been this upset about Draco losing his memories. After all, they were at odds most of their lives, and there were only three or four poignant meetings that brought them close.

But sometimes three or four meetings is all it takes.

When he brought the sandwiches into the parlour, both Bill and Draco had grim expressions. “Ta, mate.” Bill got up from his chair and went to help Harry with the tea things. “I’m famished.”

Draco didn’t say a word, but just looked away. When Harry put a plate in his lap, he grabbed Harry’s hand and looked up. 

It was a desperate look, worth a thousand words. Here was a man who was truly lost, trying to understand what’s happened. “We’ll figure it out, right?” Harry gave Draco’s hand a little squeeze. “Eat. Curing your mind means nothing if your body is suffering, right?”

He put Draco’s hand on the plate and then moved to the seat opposite him. “So, what’s the verdict, Bill? What do you think we should do?”

Bill shrugged. “I’d say take him to St. Mungo’s, but if he has enemies there, there’s no telling what would happen.” He took a bite of sandwich. “Gin should be here in a quarter of an hour. She said to just wait until she got here with someone we could trust.”

The question was, who could they trust?

Harry just sat there for a few minutes and watched Draco as he ate his sandwich and drank his tea. So many of the little things he’d never noticed about that man. Or maybe he’d noticed them, but they were so buried in his subconscious under layers of snide remarks, pre-conceptions, and burning memories of their escape from the fiendfyre, the look of his swollen, wet eyes in the bathroom, the look of remorse and desire at the end of the final battle.

Desire?

Harry’s plate fell to the floor. “Sorry.” He snapped back into reality. “Sorry, erm, don’t worry about it, I’ll... clean it up.”

Was it really desire that was in Draco’s eyes at that time? And Harry, too. What was his first instinct after everything was over? It wasn’t to go and check in the Great Hall for casualties. It was to run and see if Draco had been killed.

“You okay?” Bill asked, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Draco set his plate aside and in a flash was at Harry’s side, pushing Bill away and wrapping one arm tightly around Harry’s shoulders.

The room fell silent. Draco seemed to be as surprised as the other two. His breath was ragged and he kept blinking as if he had something in his eyes.

Before any of them could react, however, there was a knock at the door. Draco released Harry and moved back to his seat. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

“No, it’s alright,” Harry replied. “I’ll just go... see who’s at the door.”

Bill just stood there for a moment. He watched Harry leave, then turned to Draco. “Did you remember something?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. It was more like an instinct.” He leaned over and held his head in his hands. “I just... didn’t want you touching him, I think.”

At that moment, Harry came into the room, followed by Ginny Weasley and Madam Pomfrey. “The one person we know who will care for him no matter what,” Ginny said, smiling at her brother.

\--~oOo~--

The diagnosis wasn’t good. Whatever it was that was still affecting Draco had removed all recognition of people he knew. He still had instincts, and could remember certain things about daily life, but details about his job, what he did, the life he had lived, and what sort of person he was were all gone.

In fact, they were very neatly, cleanly gone. Something that most curses can’t do. It was a case of amnesia that seemed almost as if someone had gone into his mind and Obliviated everything that made him Draco Malfoy. Leaving him, for all intents and purposes, a Muggle... only with the potential for using magic, and an innate knowledge that it existed.

They all sat around the table in the kitchen, Harry pouring out tea and Ginny cutting up a melon.

“It’s been very carefully, expertly done.” Madam Pomfrey dropped three cubes of sugar in her tea and stirred it with great concentration. “Whoever did this must have known Mr. Malfoy quite well. Moreover, as strange as it may seem, they must also care for him quite a bit.”

“What? That doesn’t make sense. If the person who attacked him cared about him, then why attack him in the first place?” Harry nearly spilled some tea on Ginny.

“Careful, you,” she said, batting Harry’s hand away. “If you think about it, she has to be right. If they wanted him dead, they would have just killed him. If they wanted to torture him, they wouldn’t have erased his memories. No, this really does seem like someone, I don’t know, doing it for his own good? A jealous lover, perhaps? Someone who still cares, but maybe Malfoy broke up with her and she’s on some kind of rampage.”

“I don’t think that’s likely,” Malfoy stated plainly. “Not a woman scorned, anyway.”

“And how would you know, might I ask, Mr. Amnesia?” Ginny spat back.

“Maybe because I was in love with him.” Everyone followed Draco’s finger, which was pointing directly at Harry. “Makes sense. I have some sort of instinct about him. Earlier when this Bill chap here put his hand on him, I nearly pushed him across the room. And just now, when you batted away his hand, I felt a strong urge to hex the freckles right off your face.”

The room erupted into a chorus of accusations and denials. Ginny was indignant at the thought of being hexed by Malfoy. Bill was just confused and wondered how long this had been going on, and Harry, poor Harry, was so taken aback, he went through a whole string of denials and insults before finally demanding that Malfoy take those words back.

Madam Pomfrey simply smiled and sipped her tea. If this was the case - if Mr. Malfoy truly had been in love with Harry Potter, then she had a sneaking suspicion what had happened. And if she was right, the cure might actually be possible. But only if Mr. Potter would agree.

Based on the bright pink color of his face, she suspected, he might just do that.

 

\--~oOo~--

About an hour after tea and arguments in the kitchen, Ginny and Bill left together. Ginny had promised to stop by and play with Victoire and at the same time follow up with Fleur on her second pregnancy. This was as good an excuse as any, they both thought, and it would allow Madam Pomfrey some time to sort things out with Malfoy.

“There are two possibilities for a cure.” She told both men. “The first is to find out who instigated this, and have them essentially undo what they did. Now, if my suspicions, which I shall keep to myself, are correct, I’m not sure that person could actually undo what he has done.”

Harry let out a long sigh. “Yes, well, even if we found out who it was, do you think they’d stick around to see their handiwork?”

“Not likely,” Pomfrey agreed. “So, our other option involves the both of you, and may take a little longer.”

Harry leaned over toward Malfoy. “A little longer could mean several years as far as she’s concerned,” he whispered.

Pomfrey let out a sigh. “Nothing wrong with my hearing, Potter, but yes, you’re quite right. I have no idea how long this will take. It involves the two of you staying together day and night until your actions start triggering the emotive regions of your brain to re-ignite the memories you two have had together.”

“What?” Harry wasn’t quite sure he understood.

“You’d have to remain here, of course. Places with old magic like this have a kind of buffer that effectively regulates magical spells, curses, hexes, and things like that. It will lessen the effect of the magic enough that this might work.”

“Wait, what?”

“Of course, the more you are together, the more likely sparks of recognition will begin to stimulate his brain.” She folded her hands in front of her.

“But then what about Malfoy Manor? What about taking him home to his mother?” Harry asked, starting to panic.

“And how do we know that it she who did this to him, hmm? A son who isn’t living up to what he’s supposed to be? Perhaps even one who has fallen in love with another man? And yet she wouldn’t have the heart to send him away or have him killed, or any other sort of horrible end.” A wry smile came across Pomfrey’s face.

“It really does make sense, Mr. Potter,” Draco finally chimed in. “I mean, I’m not sure about a lot of things, and I don’t remember much, but I did feel some real jealousy when that girl touched you. And even that Bill chap. ‘Bout to make steam come out of my ears.”

Harry let out a long sigh. Somehow he always seemed to be the one who had the answers, even if he never quite understood the questions. They were right, of course. And he would do it, that was also a given. Whether or not he’d like it, though...

He looked down at Draco’s blank expression as he played with the spoon he’d left on the table. “Of course, I’ll do it. Maybe it will take my mind off of these chest pains I’ve been having.”

“Chest pains?” Madam Pomfrey was up in a flash, wand out, preparing a diagnostic spell. 

“No, no, it’s okay. It just comes and goes.” Harry tried to brush her away.

But she was already half into her diagnostic when he began to protest. “Hmmm, very interesting, indeed,” she finally said. Snapping back into a smile, she took a step backward. “And I think I’ll be going now. Best to leave you two to get acquainted. Be sure to tell Mr. Malfoy all about your Quidditch games and what happened in your sixth year, and, well, everything.”

Not a minute later, before either of them knew what had happened, she had gone.

“Well, that was...” Harry started.

“Odd.” Draco set the spoon firmly down on the table. “Never imagined she’d hasten out so quickly when treating Harry Potter. Not when she always seemed to fawn over you when--“ The rest of his thought was lost.

Harry spun around in his spot and stared at Malfoy. “You... remembered that.”

“What? Really?”

“I think so. What was it, second year? That was an actual memory from when we were twelve.” He looked back toward the front door. Maybe there’s something to this plan after all.

 

\--~oOo~--

At Madam Pomfrey’s suggestion, the two of them spent as much time together as they could. Of course, it was awkward. Very, very awkward. Harry could remember every rotten thing they had done to each other, so he really couldn’t think of much to say. Draco, on the other hand, couldn’t remember a thing about their past together, so he had no problems at all making small conversation.

In fact, there were many times that small conversation turned into flirting. Harry found his heart racing and his shirt feeling a bit too snug around the neck when Draco would start talking about things like what kind of tea he liked and the color of the dish towels, and how many steps led up to the landing.

Obviously flirting.

“So, what’s my favorite color?” he asked, several days later, over lunch. Harry had made cucumber and ham sandwiches, knowing somehow that it had been one of Draco’s favorites. Draco actually seemed earnest in this question for once.

“Green,” Harry replied, setting down a bowl of freshly picked and washed tiny tomatoes.

Draco nodded. “Aah, that makes sense. The color of your eyes.”

Harry took a deep breath. “No, not the color of my eyes.”

“Yes! You eyes are most definitely green!”

“I mean, that’s not the reason,” Harry told him as he sat at the table opposite Draco. “Your favorite color is green because it was one of the colors of your house back at school.”

Draco seemed to think about this for a moment. Harry took a bite of his sandwich. “What was the other house color?”

“Silver,” Harry mumbled with his mouth stuffed.

“Silver? Oh, then it definitely ought to be silver, don’t you think? What with all the silver jewelry I own? And silver linens, and silver artwork?” Draco picked up one of the tomatoes and examined it between his fingers. “No, I think if my favorite color is green - which I can tell you it certainly is now - it’s because your eyes are green. And I love your eyes.”

Harry stopped eating. He wasn’t sure if he felt nauseous or if these butterflies in his stomach were something else entirely. All he knew was that...

“What’s your favorite color?”

... if he was asked the same question...

“Steel blue.”

... he would give a truthful answer.

 

\--~oOo~--

It was in their second week together that Harry noticed the change. He had gone back to work during the days, leaving Draco at home alone, and for some strange reason, this made him feel quite uncomfortable. Bill noticed his change in demeanor immediately. Harry was tense, agitated, and almost clumsy in his work. Instead of his normally excellent communication skills, Harry scarcely said a word to anyone.

By lunchtime, Bill had had enough. “I think you should go home.”

Harry set down his mug of tea and looked up from his bowl of soup. “What?”

“Your mind isn’t in your work. It ain’t good to lose your head while working on breaking curses, Harry. You should know that better than anyone.” Bill finished his drink and levitated the empty glass over to the bar stand.” 

Harry just stared at the fireplace in the Mug and Barrel. It was a smaller establishment, recently set up by Cormac McLaggen and his young wife. Harry and Bill liked it for two reasons. Firstly, it was right around the corner from work, and secondly because anyone could sit at the tables there and have a truly private conversation.

“Who did this to him?” Harry pondered angrily. “It just doesn’t make sense. Why wipe out all memories having to do with me?”

“Are you still on about that? I thought you said it didn’t matter.”

“Well, it does.” Harry shook his head. “I mean, no it doesn’t really matter, but if he’s living with me until his memories come back, maybe it would help to find out who did it.”

“Or maybe you care more than you want to let on, and you’re worried about someone coming after him again.” Bill added.

“Bloody Hell! Do you think that’s possible? What if someone finds out he’s getting his memories back?” Harry pushed away his bowl and stood. “Dammit! I should be there. Bill, make some excuse for me at work. Tell them I’ve got a... I don’t know, just make something up. I’ve got to go.”

Harry threw a pocketful of change on the table and practically ran out of the place, his face red with concern.

Bill sat there for a moment, just staring after him, then laughed so loud it went beyond the silencing charm that had been placed on the table. “Oh, please tell me this is real.” He reached over and pulled a chunk of beef out of Harry’s soup bowl. “Poor Harry. He’s so bright about some things and so thick about others.”

Cormac visited his table, bringing him another glass of water. “What’s gotten into him?” He asked nodding toward the door.

“Something he’s probably not ready to deal with, Mac.” Bill took the water and motioned for McLaggen to sit down in Harry’s stead. “By the way, you always had a knack with certain kinds of potions. Have you ever heard of a kind of amnesia potion?”

Mac turned his gaze away from the door. “Sure. Not much use for what I did after the war, was there? But not something just anyone could make, right? A fellow’d need some pretty special talents and ingredients. Why you askin’?”

“Just a thought.” He sighed and looked down into the glass of water. “Have you ever thought of something that makes perfect sense, but puts such a sad twist on things that you’d rather not think about how it might be true?”

“Yeah, there might be things like that. But then if someone can make it not sad, it’s alright, y’know?”

Bill chuckled. He took a drink of the water and set the glass back down on the table. “What made you decide to be a publican, anyway, Mac?”

“‘Cause I’m better at listening to you lot than I am at listening to my wife.”

 

\--~oOo~--

 

When Harry arrived back at home, he was nearly breathless from the jaunt. Running into the house, he found Draco sitting in the kitchen eating a carrot, drinking some tea. “You alright?” He gasped, bracing himself against the door. “I mean, nobody’s come after you here, have they?”

Draco looked around the kitchen, then squinted. “Not in the four hours since you’ve left. I’ve just read a bit from one of your trashy romance novels - how can you read such garbage - and sat down here for tea and, well, a carrot.”

Harry let out a long breath and sat at the table with Draco. He levitated himself a mug and poured out some tea. “So, nobody’s come here? Good.” After a few moments, he looked down at Draco’s hand. “Carrot?”

“You don’t have sandwiches made, your house elf apparently doesn’t like me, and I haven’t a clue how to begin to make myself some lunch, so it was either those tomatoes again, or this carrot.” He held up the carrot and pointed it at Harry. “I strongly suggest you purchase some biscuits. Not only are they good for the digestion, but they also make for a happy houseguest.”

Harry laughed. “Right. Biscuits. I should have known you’d be useless in the kitchen.”

“Oh, so it isn’t that I’ve lost my memories of cooking, I’ve always been pants at that sort of thing.” He went back to munching his carrot.

“Always. In fact, I at first I was surprised you knew how to feed yourself. First year, you were such a brat!”

“You watched me back then? When we were, what, eleven?”

It was yet one more realization that caused Harry’s chest to clench. From that first time on the steps of Gringotts when he felt as if he’d had his soul ripped out of him, these constant aches seemed to be tugging at him whenever he thought about his past with Malfoy.

In fact, since having Draco here with him, they’d become more frequent, and they’d changed into something very different from what he’d originally felt. Sure, they still ached, and it still felt as if someone was rummaging around inside his ribcage, but it felt more as if someone was very painfully stitching things back together rather than ripping them apart.

Harry wasn’t sure which was worse.

“So, you back for good today?” Draco asked, setting down the carrot.

“Yeah. I just thought...”

“You were worried about me?”

“I thought that someone - whoever it was that did this to you in the first place - might come back and try to get at you again. You know, because you’re getting better and all?”

Draco nodded with his best “not convinced” look on his face. “Right, so this person or persons who originally made me lose my memories will know that I’ve gotten all of three of them back, and they’re going to come here, to this fortress that can only be accessed and seen by you and your friends, and take back those three, inconsequential memories that I’ve regained. Is that it?”

Harry didn’t have any response for that.

“How about this, instead? You came back because you were ready to jump at any excuse to see me again. That the thought of leaving me alone in your home without knowing for sure what kinds of things I’ll remember when you return was driving you nutters?”

Harry narrowed his gaze and pursed his lips.

“And furthermore...”

“If you finish that sentence, you’ll be eating carrots and tomatoes all night and I won’t make the roast lamb that I’d planned.”

Draco bit his lip and looked off into the far corner of the kitchen. Yes, winning this round was much more important than winning the battle today.

 

\--~oOo~--

“So, you think it’s possible?” Bill asked.

“I think it’s likely,” Madam Pomfrey answered. She clasped her hands together and rested them on top of the scroll she had been writing. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of either of them because, well, it could have been very bad, indeed.”

“And if Harry knew...”

“Precisely.”

“Oh, God, this is depressing. Why couldn’t he say anything?” Bill asked, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. He sat back in the chair across from Pomfrey’s desk and sighed. “I suppose he couldn’t. I don’t suppose there’s an easy answer, but really?”

“I believe he probably thought he was doing everyone a favor. By wiping out all memories of Mr. Potter, Malfoy probably would have been much more productive. At least, that’s probably what he thought. Little did he know that their fates were so tightly braided together that severing any part of it would weaken and destroy them both.”

Madam Pomfrey brought out a jar of butter mints and set them on the front edge of the desk, offering one to Bill. “So, what can we do about it?” Bill asked, taking a mint. “I mean, we have to do something, especially since we know who made the potion.”

“The only thing we can do is what we’re doing right now. We wait. There are only two ways to break the effects of this potion. One takes time, and the other...” She shrugged.

“Yeah, I know. Harry can handle it.” He popped another mint into his mouth. “I just feel so bad for Malfoy, though.”

 

\--~oOo~--

It always seems to be the middle of the night when things sort themselves out. At least in Harry’s case, that’s what he thought. It had been two days since Harry had come home early from work, and since then he’d been an emotional wreck. Never quite knowing how much of Draco’s talk was flirtatious and how much of it was some other sort of teasing. Although specific memories seemed to remain elusive, it seemed to Harry that his snarky attitude had returned.

Which made it even more difficult to stop thinking about him and get some well-needed sleep.

Harry sat up in the bed and swung his legs over the side. The more he thought about things, the more his chest ached. It wasn’t just all the little flirty things Malfoy had been doing that had been driving him nuts, but something about the whole situation was gnawing on Harry’s soul.

His feelings for that man had been going ‘round in circles for years now, and suddenly he’d been given an opportunity that, if he could muster the courage, could actually settle his heart once and for all.

If he could muster the courage.

Harry toed on his slippers and shrugged into the plaid shirt that he’d worn the day before. Still shaking on the inside, he walked out of his room, across the hall and rapped quietly on the door.

He silently counted to ten, feeling something of a fool just standing there in the hall, then knocked quietly again. “Uh, Draco, are you awake?”

He counted to ten again. Just as Harry raised his hand to knock again, the door opened and a very sleepy-looking Malfoy stood there with hair all mussed and half of his collar standing right up. “You okay?” he asked, half asleep.

At that moment, at a quarter past one in the morning, standing in the dim light of the hallway, looking as he did, and completely defenseless, Harry was sure he was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

In answer to Draco’s question, Harry reached up, put his hand behind the man’s neck and pulled his face down until their lips met.

It took Draco a few moments to wake up and realize what was happening. In fact, it was when Harry released his grasp and took a step back that he took full notice of the situation. “Oh, no you don’t,” Draco whispered. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and shoulder and brought him in for a passionate kiss.

As soon as their lips met, it was as if the floodgates had opened. What started as simple nipping at each other turned into tongues exploring each other’s mouths, hands finding their way inside of shirts, and Draco pushing Harry back until he was against the wall, their bodies pressed so firmly against each other that there would be no denying their mutual arousal.

Every bit of contact poured into Harry’s soul. What had been ripped out of him those weeks ago on the steps of Gringott’s had been restored, repaired, replaced, healed, and strengthened in these past few moments. 

The kiss lasted out of desperation. Neither of them was ready for the contact to end. Finally, Harry moved away from Draco’s lips and started kissing his way down his neck, giving Draco a chance to speak. “My room?” He gasped, reaching down to press his hand against the front of Harry’s shorts. “You’re gonna burst out of these in a minute, and as... oh, god... as much as I like this hallway, I’d rather prefer you in my bed.”

Harry’s answer was to reach back, open the door to his own room and turn Draco’s body inside the door. “My bed’s closer.”

He was quite sure he’d never undressed in such a hurry - even after the time when he and Bill had broken the curse on the silver cauldron, causing it to belch toxic, flesh-eating potions all over them.

Draco hadn’t taken his time, either. Quicker than either of them could think, they were back, pressed against each other, only this time without anything separating them.

“I suppose I should tell you that I’m in love with you,” Draco said softly as he allowed himself to be pushed back into the bed. “Or rather that I have been for quite some time now.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured. I’m pretty much gone on you, too. So, don’t make a big deal of it or anything, ‘cause I’m not good at telling people how I feel when it comes to... well, you know.”

Draco pulled Harry on top of him and held him close. “It’s okay.”

Harry kissed Draco’s ear. “I just wish you hadn’t lost all your memories of me. We’ve got quite the history together.”

Draco didn’t say another word. At once, his hands were all over Harry, as he rolled him onto his back and began kissing down his body. Enjoying every inch of skin, there wasn’t much to be said, anyway. His mouth was quickly so busy with pleasuring Harry that he couldn’t continue the conversation even if he had desired.

Which was fine with Harry, as he completely lost composure somewhere between grasping at the sheets and throwing one leg over Draco’s shoulder.

\--~oOo~--

Draco woke early. It took him a moment to make sense of his surroundings and this incredibly warm and comfortable body curled up on his side like a cat. The whole situation seemed somewhat unreal. Like something directly out of his dreams.

He sighed deeply, and carefully removed his arm out from under Harry’s head, and slipped out of bed. Quietly he Summoned his dressing gown from his own room, slipped into it, and headed out into the hallway. He paused for a moment and leaned on the door to his own room.

“Now what?” he asked himself. He went into his room, got dressed, and ran a comb through his gnarled hair. “God, I just want to back in there and...”

He turned away from the dresser and looked down at his own, empty bed. The sheets and blanket were in disarray from when he was roused from his sleep the night before. It was such a strange turn of events, he hadn’t even thought about it when Harry had shown up like that. Emotions took over, and before he knew it, everything he’d dreamed about for so long was being offered to him.

Letting out a long breath he slipped on his shoes and headed downstairs.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he could see someone sitting in the parlor.

“Figured you’d come eventually,” Malfoy said to the man. “So, what now?”

The man in the parlor stood. “That depends on you.”

 

\--~oOo~--

Harry woke to the smell of bacon frying. At first, he wallowed in the idea of Draco Malfoy standing in the kitchen, preparing a good old-fashioned fry-up for the two of them. But this was also the man who was eating a carrot for lunch because he couldn’t manage slipping some meat and cheese between two pieces of bread.

Curiosity about breakfast finally overcame the comfort of his bed, so he arose, dressed, and headed downstairs to see precisely what was going on.

“What’re you doing, Draco? I thought you’d be sleeping in later.” Harry called from the stairs. When he finally went into the kitchen, he found Bill Weasley at the stove, and no sign of Draco Malfoy at all. “What’s going on?”

Bill slid the eggs off onto a plate, levitated two pieces of bacon alongside, and then hovered it all over to the table where bread was merrily toasting itself in preparation for the rest of breakfast. “Hungry, I hope?” he asked from the stove. He pointed to the teapot sitting on the sideboard and nodded to Harry. “Would you mind?”

Harry brought the teapot, tin of tea, and the tray of milk and sugar to the table, meeting Bill there. “What are you doing here, Bill? Where’s Draco?”

“Aah, please, sit down. I expect right now, he’s sitting in Madam Pomfrey’s office.” He helped himself to a piece of toast and a strip of bacon. “She’s scanning him for side effects of the potion he took.”

“Potion?” Harry’s hand stopped with a forkful of egg halfway to his mouth. “What kind of potion? Is he okay? He wasn’t... Dammit! I should never have--“

Bill held up one hand. “He’s fine. At least I think he’s fine. He should be fine. He Floo’d over to her this morning.”

“But what happened? It wasn’t the same person who gave him amnesia in the first place, was it?” Harry’s stomach was flipping so much, he couldn’t stand even the thought of food.

“No. He hasn’t taken a second dose. She’s just checking up to make sure the effects of the first dose are gone.”

It took Harry a few moments to process what Bill was saying. “The side-effects of the first dose?”

Bill poured tea out for both of them. “Harry, I want you to listen to me. I’ve got to tell this story from beginning to end before you make any sort of decision, right? I know you like asking questions, but in this case, you just listen, alright?”

Harry nodded and took a sip of the tea.

“Right. So, I’m going to tell you the story of a man who was so much in love with someone that he took a job so that he could see him every day. But then, when that person still never noticed him, it became too much, and he decided to remove all memories of him in hopes that he might have a moment of peace.”

Harry felt his heart sink in his chest again. Somehow, he knew exactly what this story was going to be about before hearing another word. And every question he could have asked about why Draco had done it was immediately answered by all of those memories that Harry had treasured and Draco had lost.

“It worked. The magic worked. And it would have kept his memories away for good if it weren’t for one major flaw.” Bill took a drink of tea and looked over at Harry, practically challenging him to interrupt with a question. When Harry just sat there, staring at him, he realized just how hard this was hitting his friend. “Harry, the flaw was you. More specifically, it was his connection to you and your connection to him. Because you cared as much for him as he did for you, the effects of the potion began wearing off as soon as you found him that first day back in his dingy little flat.”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat.

“In life, we have our loves, and that’s all well and good. But there’s something that goes beyond that. It’s a bond so strong that even amnesia potions can’t break it. Mum and Dad are like that - soulmates. If something happened to the one of them, do you think the other could ever just move on and forget them?”

Harry shook his head.

“And do you think you could ever exist in a world if Draco Malfoy were to suddenly up and disappear?”

Just the thought of it sent a chill up Harry’s spine.

“Honestly, Harry, I think that was ultimately what caused your chest pains. If you two were so closely connected that simply your presence, could undo a powerful memory potion, it’s likely that his loss of your memories ripped out a piece of your soul that day.”

Bill took a sip of his tea.

“So, end of story here; Malfoy’s off at Madam Pomfrey’s getting a thorough check-up. His gig is up, and he knows it. Now that the potion’s worn off, and he’s probably reckoned that I’m telling you everything, I don’t know what he’s going to do.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “But you need to decide quickly your own course of action.”

Harry set down his tea and just sat there, staring at the toast floating over the table. No, he hadn’t time to think this through. No, he wasn’t sure what was right.

But there was one thing he was sure of. “If he ever dares remove memories of me again, I’ll kill him!”

Harry ran out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into the parlor.

Bill could hear him from the kitchen, “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Hospital Wing!”

\--~oOo~--

“You’re here.”

“Yes.” Harry sat next to Draco on the edge of the cot.

“So you talked to Bill Weasley?” Draco stared out of the window, fidgeting with the edge of the sheet.

“Well, more precisely, he talked to me.” Harry leaned his head over and rested it on Draco’s shoulder. He heard a sharp breath come from Draco. “If you ever try to remove memories of me again, I swear, I’ll kill you.”

Draco closed his eyes, smiled, reached down and took Harry’s hand. “I wouldn’t be able to do it again. There is no way I could ever bring myself to remove my memory of last night. In fact, I think I could even go back to just watching you at work every day living on that one memory alone.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Malfoy. You know you’d see me every day and it’d drive you bonkers wanting to sleep with me again.” Harry smiled and nudged Draco with his shoulder. “So, when did your memories actually return?”

“Oh, ‘bout the time I asked you about my favorite color.”

Harry sat bolt upright. “What? That early? You mean, you had me on for--“

“My favorite color is green because it’s the color of your eyes.” He leaned down and kissed Harry softly on the lips. “And your favorite color?”

“Shut up.” Harry kissed him back.


End file.
